


if you die (what will i be?)

by bstarship



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sad Peter Parker, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23028979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bstarship/pseuds/bstarship
Summary: It takes Peter almost dying for Tony to start paying more attention to him. It takes a dozen unanswered calls and a stupid blood-crusted suit to convince the billionaire that maybe a sixteen-year-old kid with superpowers is worth more than a side project.That’s just how it feels.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 33
Kudos: 519
Collections: ellie marvel fics - read





	if you die (what will i be?)

**Author's Note:**

> hello u can also find this on my [tumblr](https://itsybitsyspiderling.tumblr.com/) !

It takes Peter almost dying for Tony to start paying more attention to him. It takes a dozen unanswered calls and a stupid blood-crusted suit to convince the billionaire that _maybe_ a sixteen-year-old kid with superpowers is worth more than a side project.

That’s how it feels.

The embers are still floating around him, and the smoke still hangs in the air. His throat burns like it never has before, but he can hardly find the strength to worry. He asks Karen to call Happy, call Mister Stark, call _someone_ and tell them of what happened––he’s afraid he won’t get the chance to do it himself. The smoldering building has already crisped and collapsed around him. He can’t move, _he can’t move_ , and the world feels a bit darker now.

The worst part is, he doesn’t want to move. The cinder falls like snow around him, and through the clearing smoke, he can see stars. The sky has never looked that beautiful before.

Peter can feel the pain, but he doesn’t care.

It never occurs to him how severe the injuries might be. He just knows that he can’t feel his legs; he isn’t sure he even has them anymore. His abdomen has been struck with a force so palpable, _so heavy_ , that he can feel it beneath his flesh. There is something there, and he doesn’t know what. He can’t look.

It isn’t that he doesn't want to either. He physically _can’t_. His body lies motionless, pain in every nerve, and all he can do is wait.

* * *

Peter usually only sees Tony in passing. As the article, “Spider-Man or Iron Man’s Sidekick?” tears through the tabloids thanks to the Daily Bugle, Peter slowly begins to realize that they’re right. Aside from the little things, like bank robberies and gas station brawls, most of Spider-Man’s big accomplishments are in the lovely company of the man in red and gold. And Peter thought it was cool at first.

He thought it was _so_ cool to be fighting alongside Iron Man.

Once the article comes out, suddenly, the novelty wears off. Spider-Man exists in Iron Man’s shadow, but Peter hardly exists to Tony at all.

It’s clear when Peter asks him to help him out with a school project in late October. Twenty hours of work based around a bullshit hypothesis with unproven results––Peter can barely look at the thing without feeling sick to his stomach. Biochemistry has never been his strong suit, and, granted, it has never been Tony’s either, but he has better luck asking a genius billionaire than relying on his own teenage brain.

Happy’s text comes through the next morning.

_“I’ll come by and pick up the project after school.”_

And Peter nearly smiles. Tony is going to help him. Peter realizes that he’s more excited about the idea of working with his mentor than he was when he first received his suit.

When Happy meets him at 2:45 PM, the conversation falls short. Tony isn’t there; Peter never expects him to be, but Happy doesn’t want to be there either. He takes the contents of the project, stuffs it in the backseat, and drives off with a wave. Not even an offer for a ride. So, Peter walks home alone.

The following week, after the school day ends, Happy texts Peter again for the third time since he has known him.

_“Meet me outside.”_

Students filter out of classrooms while Peter takes each step carefully. Happy is there. Happy is waiting for him. And maybe Tony is there too. Meanwhile, Peter struggles to differentiate his nerves from his excitement. At the same time, he wonders if it’s full-blown anxiety instead. He’s starting to figure out where he fits in with Tony and Happy—he thinks that he doesn’t fit in at all.

“We’ve gotta swing by the compound to pick it up,” Happy says, tossing his keys in his hand as Peter nears slowly. “I don’t got all day, kid, c’mon. Let’s get your project.”

Peter lets out a sigh and climbs into the passenger seat. For once, he doesn’t want to go up to the compound. He knows that he made a mistake in asking Tony for help; Tony is always willing to help, but he is never willing to show that he cares. Peter feels like an anomaly, and the compound acts as a reminder that no one thinks he’s is ready. For anything. They only see him as some sixteen-year-old who––to quote May––looks like a teddy bear trying to swear when he gets mad.

Happy hardly speaks a word on the drive up. Little hums and disinterested “wow’s” fill the empty space as Peter rants. Peter doesn’t think the dynamic will ever change, and he never imagines why it would.

“He left it in your room,” Happy says, referring to the project that Peter can hardly remember. “He’s not here today.”

“My room?”

Happy looks at Peter strangely. “Yeah. Your room. You still have one, you know.”

Peter nods. He does have a room. He forgot. He forgot because Tony has never once invited him up to use it. With little direction, Peter wanders the compound alone. The sooner he finds his project, the sooner he could go home, suit-up, and forget that this ever happened.

“Mister Parker, your shoe is untied.” Tony’s voice rings out down the hall.

After he collected his project, Peter found himself distracted by the large glass windows in the hallway. The view is impeccably serene. If he had originally accepted Tony’s offer a year ago, then the view would have been his. And maybe Tony would have bothered paying a little bit more attention to the vigilante he took under his wing.

“Oh,” Peter mumbles, glancing down at his feet. “I didn’t notice.”

Tony hums.

“I-I thought––uh, Happy said you weren’t here.”

“Technically, I’m not,” the older man replies. He’s dressed up to the nines. Like always, it seems. “I’m supposed to be halfway to California right now.” His eyes catch the project sitting in Peter’s hands. “That’s A-plus worthy, by the way. If it’s any less—actually, well, who am I kidding? You’ll get an A-plus. If not, an A.”

“Mister Stark, you didn’t have to finish the project,” Peter says. “We could’ve worked on it togeth—”

Tony waves his hand. He waves Peter off. “Not a problem,” he says. He has already begun to walk away. “I gotta split, kid. See you later.”

Tony is right. Peter does get an A-plus on the project. But it isn’t rewarding in the slightest.

* * *

Peter can tell that his breathing pattern has changed. He tries not to overreact, but each passing moment feels like an eternity. He can’t hear sirens, he can’t hear anything. He can’t even hear his heartbeat slowing.

_Why can’t he hear anything?_

The autumn chill feels twenty degrees colder than it had, but his skin is still burning from the fire that dwindles around him. He knows he’s not overreacting. He knows he’s dying.

_Doesn’t anyone care that he’s dying?_

“K-Karen,” he whimpers out, but it sounds like more like a plead, and the taste of metal floods his tongue. It’s the only sense that overwhelms him. The rest of his body has fallen numb, and it’s not the fault of the cold or the anxiety sparking within him. He can’t tell how much blood he’s losing or if he’s losing any at all.

 _“I have not been able to reach Happy Hogan or Tony Stark_ ,” she says calmly. She’s always calm. _“Would you like me to try May Parker?”_

Something about the sound of her name strikes a chord within Peter. His torso seizes, and the weight of the rubble on his legs suddenly means nothing as he thinks about May. _May_. He can’t leave her. He can’t leave May.

“No, _no,_ ” he whines, eyes squinting shut as he struggles to lift himself up from the ground. “Don’t––don’t call––” His words are drowned out by the pain radiating up his chest. It’s not coming in waves or in dull aches like his normal wounds. Peter doesn’t know pain like this, and there’s not enough air in his lungs to breathe or speak.

And he thinks he’s crying. _It’s not supposed to feel like this._

Death is supposed to be peaceful. He’s supposed to smile and think of loved ones.

Instead, Peter can’t help but panic. No one is coming for him. No one is hearing his cries––is he crying? He still can’t tell. He can hardly feel his legs, let alone lift his head. He just knows there’s something wrong, and there’s pain. There’s so much pain.

At that moment, he believes that no one will come to save him. No one will come. No one wants to.

* * *

There’s nothing Peter hates more than the idea of disappointing Tony Stark. The fear––quite literally––follows him into his dreams. In those dreams, Tony has an alter ego, one that frames the kid for murder and plasters his face under every article that screams “Spider-Man Wanted on Account of a Double Homicide”. Real Tony isn’t like that. Real Tony is nice.

But disappointed Tony is a person Peter wishes he had never met. He won’t frame him for murder or reveal his identity. Instead, it feels worse. It feels like losing trust or losing a friend. The few times Peter has disappointed Tony, it’s been a sinking, unspeakable guilt. It’s been impalement driving and twisting into his chest while the fire behind his eyes blackens.

There’s something about disappointing Tony that breaks Peter. And it’s all because of how much he looks up to him.

Sometimes he wishes that he chose someone else to idolize as a kid. He’s been made into a prototype, an acolyte like the rest, but one who is only treated differently because he _is_ different. Peter is only kept around because of Spider-Man.

That’s what he firmly believes.

And there are times when Tony doesn’t even want Spider-Man.

After the ferry incident, Peter worries about the next time he’ll let Tony down. He counts every possible scenario on his fingers and toes, but he and Tony are so similar. They both act rationally in the most irrational way.

Peter thinks that Tony has slowly begun to see his old habits in him.

All it takes is an incident involving HYDRA and a Quinjet. At first, Tony makes his disappointment known with silence. He flies over to a nearby roof without another word, leaving Peter in his dust. And for a moment, Peter considers not chasing after him, but he knows the storm is brewing nevertheless. No matter what day or week it is, he can’t escape it.

“What did I _tell_ you?” Tony asks, his metal faceplate lifting with as much bite as his tone.

Peter breathes heavily but stays silent. He tears his mask off with shaky hands.

“I asked you _not_ to interfere,” Tony continues. “I asked you to distract and retreat. One of us has a bulletproof suit, and that’s not you, got it?”

“I-I just wanted to––”

His jaw clenches as he shakes his head. “No. No more excuses. No more promising that you’ll do better next time. What if there wasn’t going to be a ‘next time’? Huh? What if that blind idiocy you exhibited tonight had gotten you killed? We wouldn’t be here, and I’d be forced to knock on May’s door and tell her that her nephew––”

“Don’t, please.”

“Then do as I _say_.”

Peter’s heart stutters in his chest. He can feel his own anger boiling in his veins. It feels like the ferry incident again. It feels like every time he’s disappointed Tony, and it’s all because Peter doesn’t know how to keep from making the same mistakes.

“Why can’t you trust me like you trusted the Avengers?” he hears himself ask, but it’s not as sharp as he imagined it would be.

The creases in Tony’s forehead smooth over as his expression falls. “You think I don’t trust you––that’s it?” he whispers. “The Avengers relied on mutual trust. Maybe it’s time you start trusting me too, yeah, kid? If you did, then you would have done what I asked.” The faceplate slams shut, and Tony hovers above the roof as he says, “they lost my trust, too. I can’t lose yours.” And then he’s off.

Peter is alone.

* * *

Peter is alone, and the panic has finally subsided. He’s not aware of much, but he can feel the wind against his fingertips. He can still see the embers drifting like buoys in the sea. He thinks about Coney Island. He thinks about metal talons digging into his skin, and he compares it to the large splinters of wood stuck in his torso.

There is nothing else to focus on but the stars. He doesn’t remember there being so many stars.

Karen speaks to him in a calm matter. She knows his heartbeat is too slow. She knows he’s having a hard time breathing. She talks and helps him through it, but he can’t hear a word. He doesn’t hear her talking about the missed calls from Tony. He doesn’t hear her mention his name at all.

When Peter struggles to identify the flashing lights of distant emergency vehicles, he finally hears something. Metal crashing against concrete. The touchdown of the world’s finest hero.

“Peter?” Tony’s voice is small, but it’s a sound Peter has been waiting to hear all night.

He tilts his head; it’s all he can do. “Mister Stark?”

The weight of the rubble on his legs goes missing.

Tony is above him in under a second, cold, metal fingers settling themselves behind Peter’s head to keep it elevated. “Pete,” Tony breathes out.

Peter has never seen Tony look so pale before.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, placing his other arm under Peter’s legs. “Okay? You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you through this. I’ve got you.”

Peter tries to nod, but his head rolls to the side instead. “You’ve––you’ve got me,” he mumbles. The words float away with the embers.

Tony’s lips pull into a deep frown, and his eyebrows knot together as he thinks over his next moves. His eyes are dark, but they are warm and soft, and just by looking into them, Peter can tell that Tony is scared.

As the older man’s lip trembles, Peter realizes that he’s no longer in as much pain as he had been. He feels lighter than air, but he doesn’t feel real. _It’s supposed to feel like this_.

Tony starts to lift him into his arms, and for a brief moment, the pain returns. It vocalizes itself as a cry and a scream, and Tony’s worry and fear turn to horror. He doesn’t know what to do. “Y-you’ve gotta bear with me, kiddo. I’ve gotta lift you. Okay? Do you trust me?”

Peter can’t say it back, but he smiles. And that says enough.

_“I’m so sorry, Pete.”_

* * *

He awakes in the Medbay. Re-runs of Star Trek are playing on a flatscreen in the corner, and a large vase of red and blue flowers sits beside his bed. The third thing he notices is the ache in his lungs as he takes each breath. The fourth thing is slumped over in a chair across the room, elbows pressed into his knees while soft snores rumble through his chest. He’s not dressed to the nines like Peter usually sees. Instead, he’s in sweatpants and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front. He looks like he hasn’t moved from his seat in days.

Peter’s torso is covered in bandages, and his legs are in casts. He knows that, in a matter of a day or two, he’ll be walking again with little to no pain. But right now, he’s afraid to move.

He’s afraid to speak.

The first thing he tries to do is reach for the remote, which fails miserably. It slips to the ground, and the clattering plastic seems to wake the slumbering Stark instantly.

“Pete?” Tony mutters, blinking to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting. “How long’ve you been up?”

“A minute,” Peter answers hoarsely.

Tony nods and presses his lips together. He doesn’t leap from his chair or cry out of happiness; instead, his eyes speak louder than words. He’s relieved. He’s thankful. He’s trying to fight back his thoughts and emotions instead of dumping them all on Peter.

“Mister Stark––”

“You’re never gonna hear this from me again, so listen up,” Tony says. He blinks rapidly and sniffs. He continues breathily, “you scared the living shit outta me. I thought you were––I thought you were gonna–– _Jesus_.” Tony runs his fingers through his hair. “If you were gone before I got t’tell you how proud of you I am, kiddo, I don’t know what I would be doin’ right now.”

Peter bites the inside of his lip to keep from crying. Meanwhile, he can’t believe it. He doesn’t know how to.

“When I discipline you––” Tony says. He can’t look at Peter. “––when I set boundaries and rules, it’s not because I don’t think you can do it. It’s because I’m terrified that one of us is gonna make the wrong move, and suddenly, there’s no turning back. I can’t let it happen. I just can’t, Pete. I can’t lose you.”

Peter wants to swallow down the anger growing in him. But he can’t. He doesn’t know how to believe him. “Then why––why do you i-ignore me?” Peter sputters, trying to contain his emotions, but they come pouring out through his tears.

“I don’t––”

“You _do!”_ Peter cries out. He doesn’t mean to, but the words all feel like lies. The Tony he knows barely spares a minute for him. “You make Happy do everything. You don’t contact me. You don’t wanna see me. You pull me along on these missions only to hold me back, and then you berate me for doing something _you_ would do! I’m tired of being a sidekick if I can’t even be your––your _friend_.”

Tony rests his head in his hand. “Peter––”

“You say you can’t lose me, but it doesn’t even feel like you want me around.”

Tony nods. He knows it’s true. But he still can’t look at Peter. “Yeah,” Tony whispers. “No, you’re right. I keep myself separated. And it’s not because I don’t want you around. I would make you drop outta school just to keep me company, Pete. I’ll admit my faults. You bring out a different side of me that I’ve never seen before, and it––it made me wanna be someone new. Made me wanna be a father. Some shit like that.” He chuckles dryly “Yeah, I got scared. I was terrified. Suddenly, the only thing I wanted to do was keep you safe. And then I realized, y’know, I’m _me_. I’m destructive. I thought that keeping you safe, but from afar, would do less damage. I was wrong. And I’m _sorry_.”

Peter doesn’t speak again for a while. He digests Tony’s words carefully, whether he chooses to believe them or not. The longer he thinks, the more Peter realizes that he has no reason to _not_ believe the man. Tony has kept him alive. Tony has saved his life. Multiple times. Tony does many things wrong, but he has done so many things right.

“Mister Stark?”

Tony glances up, his eyes glassy and hopeful.

“I trust you.”


End file.
